Ladies of Thorns
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Every rose has its thorns, but some have more than others.


**Ladies of Thorns**

"You know, I'd always thought that the afterlife would be less boring."

"This isn't the afterlife?"

"No? Then what is it?"

"It's the Nexus. A trans-dimensional-"

"Oh do be quiet my dear, just listening to you is exhausting." The newcomer clicked her fingers at one of the servants. "You! Just going to stand there like a castrated donkey? Make yourself useful and bring me some lemon cakes."

Raena gave the servant a nod. She didn't know if her larders had any lemon cakes, nor did she know what a lemon cake was, but surely The Crest would make do…right?

Or maybe not. She'd seen many people from other worlds come into the Nexus, but none of them had possessed the barbed tongue of Lady Olenna Tyrell.

"So then," said Olenna, leaning back in her chair. They were sitting on the balcony of the Crest, with the sun high, the sky clear, and the only sign of darkness the shawl the lady of Westeros was wearing. "I can assume that this isn't the afterlife, because I'm not being pulled down through one of the seven hells."

"Could be one of the seven heavens," Raena murmured.

"I suppose it could, but I don't think I have good standing with the gods these days." She frowned. "You're not one of them then?"

"No. I'm actually a realm lord and-"

"Stop." Olenna held up a hand. "Just listening to you is exhausting."

"But you just asked-"

"The way your mouth goes up and down. It's like a fish struggling for air, only the fish got the bright idea that people care what it has to say."

Raena fell silent. She knew it was within her power to give Olenna all kinds of horrible deaths. The type of deaths that might even violate the laws of the Nexus – deaths that one wouldn't return from. That would take time and effort of course, but…

"This definitely isn't Heaven. The lemon cakes would have arrived by now."

 _I could throw you off the balcony,_ Raena thought to herself. _No-one would have to know._

"Where are they?!"

On cue, the servant arrived, carrying a tray of tarts.

 _Or they would know, but they wouldn't care. Or rather they would, but they'd be so worried about the Raven Lord, they'd move on._

"What are these?" Olenna said, sniffing.

"These are lemon cakes, my lady."

"No, they're not." She met the eyes of the servant – a twenty-something year old whose name was John, or Jack, or James – something that began with "J," Raena reflected. "Do you think I'm stupid, young man? You think I don't know the difference between a tart and a cake when I see one?"

 _John. That was it._

"Well?"

John, bless him, was still carrying the lemon cakes/tarts, and still standing to attention…barely. Raena could tell that he wanted nothing more than to leave right now.

"Are you deaf?" Olenna snapped.  
"I…I…"

"Oh by the gods, even the servants here are boring." Olenna grabbed the tray and put it on her lap. She took a bite of the first tart, and looked at John, who was still standing there.

"What are you standing there for?"

"I…"

"Do you need telling everything you need to do? Is it that your spine is defective, or your brain?"

"I…I don't…"

"Fine. Go. Do whatever it is you do and leave the grownups to talk."

Raena watched John scamper off before returning her gaze to Olenna, who was already on the second tart, eating it in a most unladylike manner. The tray was still on her lap as well.

"You know I could order you to stop eating and listen to me."

"Coudfdenat."

Raena blinked. "Pardon?"

Olenna finished her second tart. "I said you could do that."

"You know that I could make life for you so miserable that you'd miss even the brutalities of your world?"

Olenna snorted. "You think I care about brutality?"

"No." Raena crossed her gloved fingers in her lap. "I am curious as to what you _do_ care about."

Olenna didn't move onto the third tart. She met Raena's gaze and slowly put the plate of tarts on the table. "You can tell that bastard that the tarts were adequate," she said.

"John isn't a bastard."

"He's a grown man serving an old woman like me and pissing his pants while doing so. Either he's a bastard, or this really is Hell."

Raena decided not to bring up the issue that no, this wasn't Hell, but it could be if the Raven Lord had his way. As in, she would bring it up, but it was clear that getting through to Olenna would require a delicate touch. So instead she asked, "what's the last thing you remember?"

"You, boring me."

Raena forced a smile. "I mean, before arriving here." Olenna said nothing, so she continued. "I understand it might be difficult for you to recall your-"

"Don't patronise me you silly girl." Olenna took her third tart, but this time took a smaller bite out of it. "What I remember was sitting alone in Highgarden, waiting for death to take me." She smiled, and to Raena's surprise, it looked genuine. "Not too bad a way to go, all things considered. I managed to tell the Kingslayer that I was responsible for the death of his bastard son, and knowing him, he'll have told that to his sister by now." She took a second bite of the tart. "Or soon will. I don't know how time works here."

"…differently," said Raena. She decided to press on and not launch an explanation as to the passage of time within this trans-dimensional storm. "I'm afraid you're not dead, Lady Olenna. In matter of fact, I saved you."

Olenna took the third and final bite of her tart. "If you saved me, you'd have had better food."

"I can arrange better food, but you must understand why."

Olenna licked her lips. "Alright then. Why?"

Raena sighed, and leant forward on the table. First thing she noticed was those tarts were looking very tasty. Second thing was that there weren't many of them left, as Olenna Tyrell moved onto her fourth. Third thing was that Olenna was looking at least slightly interested in what she had to say, so this might be her best shot at getting the matron of House Tyrell to cooperate.

"You come from a world that is…different, from others," she began. "A world where battles are won by minds more than matter. Perhaps even more so."

"Not always. Robert won his rebellion because he could swing his hammer well."

"And you, being a part of that world…well, you might be able to help me." It was time to put her cards on the table. "I am Raena, the Lady of Thorns. I'm facing a threat from a rival, who bears the name of Raven Lord. And you, Olenna Tyrell, Queen of Thorns, I ask you, one flower to another…will you help me?"

Olenna took a bite out of her tart. Then another. And another. And another. Then finally, the fifth one, finishing it. Each bite felt as long as the turning of the world, each gnash of the teeth like the phase of a moon. And when at last, she spoke, it came with the force of the full storm that was the Nexus.

"No."

"No?" Raena whispered. Her voice was as quiet as the eye, but far removed from the centre.

"Lady of Thorns." Olenna sniffed. "I see your servants all have flowers as their sigils, which is frankly out of place when you insist on decorating your keep with images of dragons."

"The rose has its thorns, and-"

"My rose wilted the moment…" She paused to smooth her dress, getting stains all over it. "That aside, you chose me, of all the great men of Westeros?" She leant forward, smiling. "I may be wise, my dear. Wiser than many of the halfwits who plop themselves on horses and call themselves kings and lords. But I'm not a military leader. So either you're a fool, and doomed to lose to this Raven Lord, or else there's another reason." She leant back in her chair, still smirking. "Or maybe I'm your only choice?"

"I-"

"Come on dear, spit it out. Why me? Why choose me?"

Raena took a breath. "I chose you because…because you were my only choice."

Olenna said nothing.

"I dare not interfere in the passage of your world's history. Taking you, right before the moment of death…that is enough to save mine, and preserve yours." She sighed. "There are many generals I'd rather pluck from Westeros, Lady Olenna. Right now, as we speak, the Dragon Queen is burning thousands of men alive with a dragon even more mighty than Alexstrasza herself, let alone my former husband."

"Your _what_?! Don't tell me you married a Targaryen."

"I? No. No, of course not. But you're here now my lady, so I ask you, as the Lady of Thorns, to the Queen of Thorns…will you provide the advice I need? Because I fear in the battles to come, as the Raven Lord descends, it will be wits that decide the outcome."

Olenna said nothing. Her heart pounding, her stomach rumbling, Raena took one of the tarts. There was only one left, and before the fifth tart had reached her lips, the sixth was already on its way to Olenna's.

 _How'd you get to be so old if all you eat is lemon tarts?_ She took a bite. _Sweet Storm, this is good._

"You know," Olenna said, between mouthfuls. "That Dragon Queen you mentioned. I told her to be the dragon and not worry about the silly games her dwarf wanted her to play." She chucked. "If what you say is true, and she's burning the Lannister army to the ground…well, at least I left _some_ impact on her."

"Maybe the wrong impact. Daenerys Targaryen-"

"Can burn all of Westeros for all I care." Olenna sniffed. "What, you think I wanted her on the throne for the good of the realm? Spare me. If she reduces the House of Lannister to ash, then I can die a happy woman." She took a bite of the tart. "Or, not die, I suppose, but-"

"Lady Olenna, will you help me or not?"

"No." She finished the tart. "I won't. I don't care about you, this place, or any silly raven lords who name themselves after messenger birds." She got to her feet. "I'll see myself out. I may be old, but I can still walk."

Indeed, she started to do so, leaving Raena to remain seated in silence. Right before she uttered, "there must be something I can offer you."

"Is there now?" Olenna stopped and turned slowly. "Very well. There is something."

"Yes?" Raena knew she was betraying her desperation, but didn't care. She'd kiss the feet of the thorn if her rose could still blossom.

"You plucked me away at the moment of death. Can you…" She sighed, and Raena saw that she was twisting her hands together. "Can you…do the same…for one who perished before me?" She met Raena's gaze, and to her shock, she could see that Olenna was crying. "Just one, my dear? Just save one?"

"No." Raena got to her feet and took Olenna's hands in hers. "I know of whom you speak, Lady Olenna, and...and as someone who's lost her own children, I say, I can't. Time in your world has moved. Different from mine, but still linear. I cannot go back into the past."

Olenna said nothing. Not at first at least. But eventually, she spoke, her voice carrying a thousand thorns.

"Go to hell." She stood up straight. "If this isn't heaven, then…I'll never see my granddaughter."

"Lady Olenna."

"Go to hell. And may your realm burn with you."

And with that, she shuffled off the balcony. Into the keep, willing to find her own way out. To do…what, Raena wondered? She couldn't say. Only that this entire endeavour had been a waste of time, effort, and lemon tarts.

She took her own seat and looked over Kings Crest. Verdant. Peaceful. A realm built on a lie, but one that she would still defend. Better the lie, than the 'truth' the Raven Lord offered.

 _Every rose has its thorns._ She took off one of her gloves and scowled at the mark of the dragon. The scales consuming her skin. Taking off her other glove, she began to scratch. Pus seeped out of the wounds, falling upon the table.

Roses, she reminded herself, could still bleed.

Even dragons.

* * *

 _A/N_

 _On the one hand, given the forces the Raven Lord has at his command in the upcoming_ Fall of Kings Crest _event, maybe Olenna wouldn't make much difference._

 _On the other, Olenna is awesome. Writing for her is just as awesome (even if I'm well aware that this is a pale imitation of the books/show)._


End file.
